


A Suit and The Salmon Ladder

by jesileigh



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: F/M, Humor, Reconciliation Sex, Smut, Suits, salmon ladder, season 4.5
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-09
Updated: 2016-07-09
Packaged: 2018-07-22 12:09:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7438426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jesileigh/pseuds/jesileigh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Inspired by Stephen Amell's tweet:</p><p>"There's no easy way to do the salmon ladder while wearing a suit and tie."</p><p>Why is he wearing a suit and tie whilst doing the salmon ladder if not to kill the female fan base and/or win Felicity back by fulfilling her greatest fantasy?</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Suit and The Salmon Ladder

Felicity Smoak had two weaknesses when it came to Oliver Queen. The salmon ladder was the first. Not that that was any secret to Oliver. He might not have been the brightest man she'd ever known (Ray, Barry, Cisco and Curtis were miles ahead of him on that front), but he was observant enough to have noticed by the end of her first month with Team Arrow the way her eyes would scale every inch of him; like she wanted to trace each ridge with her tongue or bite into his biceps. Her breathing would speed up, her cheeks would turn bright pink to match her lips and her eyebrows would do that adorable crinkly thing he always loved. 

His suspicions regarding her appreciation for the apparatus were confirmed when Dig and Felicity had dragged him back from Lian Yiu after The Undertaking. She had blatantly admitted that she'd kept the salmon ladder for Lair 2.0 because she liked watching him on it. Who was he to keep her from what she wanted? 

Before, as Diggle put it, “Oliver finally got his head out of his ass and got with Felicity”, Oliver would take great pleasure in getting Felicity all hot and bothered in the lair. He didn't have to take his shirt off to work out, but he certainly enjoyed the way the pink of her cheeks would creep down her neck to her chest. Then she would undo a few extra buttons on her shirt to cool down and he'd have a perfect view of her ample cleavage from his perch atop the ladder. It was the perfect crime.

When they finally, finally, finally got together, the Salmon Ladder was Oliver's favorite way to get back in Felicity's good graces after an argument. For some reason she just couldn't seem to remember why she was mad at him when he was half naked and putting every inch of his spectacular body on display for her, like some kind of mating ritual. Especially now that she knew--ahem...intimately-- what he could do with that body. 

Felicity’s other weakness she kept a little closer to the vest. As in, it was vests. And suspenders. And form fitting, perfectly tailored dress pants and jackets that displayed his broad shoulders and glorious ass. And then he'd take off the jacket and roll his sleeves to his elbows and she would melt into a puddle of goo. Suspenders really got her, though. Oh, the things she wanted to do to him while he wore suspenders. Terrible, awful, wonderful things.

She'd be lying if she said that being his EA hadn't been exhilarating as well as frustrating for her feminist heart. How many times had she watched him lean back in his chair in his office, shirt half-unbuttoned, tie askew, suspenders begging to be grabbed--and just wanted to march right in and take him right there on the desk? Enough times that she was slightly uncomfortable using the desk in that office as VP of Palmer Tech, because she kept reliving those fantasies during board meetings. Which was dangerous, to say the least.

She had never admitted this boss-secretary fantasy to Oliver, for fear she would never live it down after the fit she threw about him making her his assistant in the first place. But when his mayoral campaign had kicked off? She thought she had died and gone to heaven, but a heaven where heaven looked like the inside of Barney Stinson’s closet. Sans Storm Trooper though, because anyone with that poor of an aim didn't deserve to be in the presence of The Green Arrow.

So one day, months after the takedown of Damian Darhk, when it was just the two of them in the bunker, keeping the city safe in secret at night and in the open during daylight, Felicity gasped involuntarily when she walked in to find Oliver on the salmon ladder, working out in a pair of charcoal gray trousers, a white shirt that was half-undone and a pair of navy suspenders.

“Are you trying to kill me?!” She exclaimed, startling Oliver. The metal bar clinked, clanked, clunked as he missed the slot and came tumbling down. 

“Jesus, Felicity!” He shouted, getting to his feet and rubbing his backside where he'd hit the ground, hard. 

“Are you trying to kill me?” She asked again. Oliver looked at her, confused.

“No, but that's one way to take me out, I guess,” he replied, sounding annoyed. 

“Just a bruised ego, probably,” She laughed. “You'll be fine.”

“Maybe,” he said. “But why would you think I was trying to kill you when you're the one who just tried to give me a heart attack?” Felicity didn't answer, just gestured to him and the salmon ladder and made some unintelligible noises. He cocked his head and raised an eyebrow, suddenly feeling a surge of male pride fill his chest. He knew she still loved him, they'd had that discussion, but had agreed to wait until they were both a bit more stable to try again. 

But there was that crinkly-eyebrow-thing he'd missed so much. And that pink color was slowly spreading over her cheeks. And she was tugging on the neckline of her dress and struggling to find words. ‘Oliver Queen’s still got it,’ he thought proudly, unconsciously puffing out his chest a bit more. Felicity’s own chest was heaving as her breath came quicker. 

“Felicity?” He said, tentatively. She bit her bottom lip and he watched her eyes slowly take him in from his face to his chest, to his hips. She gulped and her eyes met his again. It was all over.

She rushed forward, closing the gap between them and taking hold of his suspenders, using them to pull him down and capture his mouth with her own. He eagerly accepted her tongue as it sought entrance to his mouth, both releasing guttural moans of mutual relief. He hoisted her up and her legs wrapped around his waist, her hips already rolling against him.

“Oliv--oh!” She gasped when his mouth shifted to her neck and he sunk his teeth into her pulse point. “Table! Now! Table!” She demanded. He immediately carried her to the conference table in the back of the bunker and set her down on the table without his mouth taking leave from her skin once. Her fingers slid into his hair and grasped the strands, desperate for purchase as she felt herself already slipping after months of loneliness. The connection she had craved was so overwhelming and all-encompassing now that she had it.

Oliver’s hand began to slide up her thigh and he broke away for just a moment to make sure he wasn't misreading the situation. “Need to feel you,” he moaned against her cheek. She furiously nodded her consent and his fingers immediately dipped under the elastic of her panties, tracing a path from her core up through her folds to circle her clit. She yelped, almost as though she was in pain, and Oliver stopped immediately, pulling his hand away like something had burned him. 

“Sorry,” she laughed breathily, her chest heaving as she spoke, “I didn't realize I'd be so sensitive. I just--you haven't touched me since the chip started working and before that I couldn't really--” Oliver cut her off with a deep kiss.

“We’ll go slow,” he promised. “Tell me what you need.” She nodded in agreement and reached down to cover his hand with her own, guiding him back to touch her body over the top of her panties, using slightly more pressure than he would have on his own. Once he got the idea she returned to running her fingers through his hair while he slipped her underwear off, then dipped his fingers inside her. He swirled her moisture through her folds, circling her clit but never directly touching it. Felicity's head fell back and her mouth went slack. Oliver couldn't stand how gorgeous she looked like this--how much he'd missed her--and he pressed his mouth to hers again, willing her to feel everything he was, swallowing every moan she made.

It took her less than 60 seconds before she was quaking around his fingers, his name spilling from her lips like a prayer. He continued to stroke her as she came down, stopping only once she swatted his hand away, the sensations becoming too much.

As soon as she caught her breath she had her arms wrapped around his neck and was pulling him down on top of her so she could feel his hard cock press against her through the fabric of his dress pants. She rocked her hips against his, desperately seeking the friction he could provide. He moaned and moved one hand from her body to palm himself through his pants before unzipping them and letting them, along with his boxers, drop to his knees. He gripped his shaft and used the head to tease her, rubbing over her clit and coating himself in her juices. She moaned his name, drawing out each syllable and it was music to his ears. He was trying so valiantly to keep some control over his body, but it was proving to be very difficult with her being so eager and responsive. 

Still. It had been so long and she had been so vulnerable. He didn't want to push her, grateful for any kind of intimacy she would grant him, so he asked as well as he could, his words punctuated with gasps.

“Felicity--I need to know--need to hear you say it--” she opened her eyes and held his gaze, stopping all movement for just a moment.

“Please, Oliver,” she replied, touching his cheek with one hand and tracing his jawline before running her fingers over his lips. “I need you. I need to feel you inside of me.”

With her permission he guided himself to her entrance and slowly pushed his way inside of her, pausing briefly to allow her to adjust. He reveled in the feel of her body fluttering around him. 

“You okay?” He somehow managed to groan against her neck. 

“Mmmhmm…” She replied, urging him to move by rocking against him as best she could. He took her cue and slowly pulled out and pushed back in. Once. Twice. Three times. She was tighter than he'd allowed himself to remember. And so wet. Oh God, she was so wet. 

“Felicity,” he grunted. “This is going to be over...so...embarrassingly...fast.” She let out a breathy giggle that turned into a whimper.

“Me too,” she told him, her fingers fisting in his hair, pulling him down to kiss her.

“Love you so much,” he panted against her lips. 

“Love you, Oliver,” Felicity replied. His heart felt like it was ready to burst, but instead he felt his control burst instead. The icy-hot coil wound tightly in his belly snapped.

“Come with me,” he pleaded, mouth pressed to her ear. “Come for me, Felicity.” He pressed their foreheads together and watched her face until he could see her come undone beneath him with a cry. His eyes fluttered shut as his rhythm became sloppy and erratic, only taking another three thrusts to fall over the edge with her. He could feel her muscles spasm around him, feel her nails digging into his back and feel her mouth against his shoulder, biting down to keep from screaming.

Then suddenly the only sound he could hear was the ringing of his ears mingling with their heavy breaths and he stayed plastered against her, just listening for the beating of her heart as it returned to its normal rhythm. Suddenly their reverie was broken as Felicity began to giggle. He pulled back to look at her.

“What's so funny?” He asked. She grinned.

“Why were you doing the salmon ladder in a suit and tie?” She asked. 

Oliver smirked.

“Because I was trying to kill you.”


End file.
